


Curiosity

by Orne



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: F/F, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 14:39:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11404521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orne/pseuds/Orne
Summary: The Warrior of Light is an adventurous woman, and Vidofnir is an obliging dragon.





	Curiosity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thalassashells](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalassashells/gifts).



> this is the same warrior of light featured in their fic Alternative, which was a gift to both of us and probably happened before this one. read it and marvel

The sky over the Forelands is clear and brushed with stars. A full moon hangs bright among the drifts, casting the rugged terrain in a pale bluish light. The night is cold, and the ground is hard, but for now it is peaceful, and that’s all the Warrior really needs.

They’ve perched atop a rocky ledge, not far from Sohm Al. If she looks to her left the Warrior can see its vast bipartite cone looming over the landscape, with the towers of Anyx Trine rising at its base. If she looked to her right, she might have been able to glimpse the spires of Loth ast Gnath. She can’t be certain, though, since the view is comprehensively blocked by the great pale length of Vidofnir, who rests beside her like a small and mobile hill. 

( _ It had been Vidofnir’s idea, after Warrior of Light came to Anyx Trine. _ )

( _ Thou seemest like a corpse that has learned to walk, she’d said. Hast thou slept at all in the last week? _ )

( _ The answer was yes. Nine hours. _ )

( _ Every night? she’d asked. _ )

( _ No. In the last week. _ )

( _ Vidofnir insisted on going with her, to make sure she stayed down and rested. _ )

( _ Being the chosen of Hydaelyn has its perks, but you can only be called on to run errands so many times before you keel over from sheer exhaustion. _ )

The Warrior is glad for the dragon’s company, not least because the size of her keeps the wind off, and because the dry heat she radiates keeps the worst of the chill away, but also for the simple companionship she offers. These days, when the Warrior talks to someone, it’s because she has a job to do. It’s been too long since she could simply  _ chat _ for the sake of it. 

Given who she’s talking to, it didn’t take long for their conversation to turn towards ancient history.

“So what did the other dragons think of her?” she asks.

“They were… perplexed, at first,” rumbles Vidofnir. “There was a certain amount of dissonance. A human loving a dragon, especially in that age of strife? It was unthinkable. Unbelievable.”

“I guess that’s why it stopped the war,” says the Warrior.

“Indeed. Shiva certainly had enemies among mine people, but Hraesvelgr was one of the First Brood. None of their children would dare defy him.”

“I’ll bet.” The Warrior shifts on her bedroll, hands beneath her head. “I wonder how they met. That must’ve been one  _ interesting _ love confession.”

“Whatever passed between mine sire and his lover is a matter for them alone,” says Vidofnir, before muttering, “though I admit I have been curious, betimes.”

“I assume dragons don’t normally eat their mates?” asks the Warrior, wryly. 

“Not with any frequency,” replies Vidofnir, with equal mischief. “Though I could tell thee stories…”

The Warrior laughs and lies back. “I just wonder what it was like for Shiva.”

“Art thou so eager to know?” Vidofnir asks, still teasing. “Very well; I am a dragon, and thou art a fair maiden. We may begin any time thou desirest.”

“Really?” asks the Warrior, sitting up. “Right now?” And there’s something about the Warrior’s tone that makes Vidofnir stop and really look at her.

The Warrior looks right back at the dragon. Whose face shifts from concern, to confusion, to dawning comprehension, then to horror, and finally to contemplation.

“Yes,” she murmurs, staring into the distance. “Yes, I suppose…”

Vidofnir blinks, and focuses her attention once more. “Thou art adventurous in more ways than one, Warrior of Light. Art thou certain of thy course?”

“Hey, as long as you’re offering,” says the Warrior. “What am I going to do? Just  _ pass up _ a chance to get eaten by a dragon?”

“Thou wouldst not easily find another who feels the same way, I think,” says Vidofnir, dryly. “Very well. If thou art certain…”

The Warrior of Light gets to her feet, stretching, then rests a hand on the dragon’s flank. “Anything I should know before we do this?”

Vidofnir eyes her. “It wouldst be best if thou disrobed. ‘Twould be a shame to see thine clothing spoiled, and difficult to explain to thine friends.”

“Oh, they know me,” says the Warrior, dismissively waving a hand. But she starts undressing anyways.

Her fingers fumble at the laces of her shirt. Working quickly, she tugs it over her head and off onto her bedroll. The Warrior’s modesty went the same way as her self-preservation, quite a while ago; one learns to stop caring about that sort of thing after their first dozen brushes with death. 

It’s a cold night, and colder for the lack of a shirt. The Warrior shivers as a stray breeze washes over her, raising goosebumps. Then she gets to work on her pants. 

“So how are we going to do this?” she asks, bending down. “I’ve been eaten once or twice, and I had to force my way out of those.”

“That will… not be necessary, in this case,” says Vidofnir. Her wings fan out for balance as she rises, turning to face the Warrior, then fold once more on her back as she sits back down, resting on her haunches. Dignified: “Dragons such as I may regurgitate at will.”

“You can do that?” questions the Warrior, pausing. She looks up at Vidofnir, one leg hanging out of her pants.

“It is how we feed our youngest hatchlings. Thou wilt not remain any longer than thou desirest.”

“Huh,” grunts the Warrior, kicking her pants off. “I  _ thought _ you agreed to this pretty quickly.”

Vidofnir takes a moment to shuffle her forelimbs together. She rests her claws, one on top of the other, a marble image of patience. “I would never have agreed hadst thou ever been in danger, Warrior.” 

Then she frowns. “Regardless, thou should not tarry  _ too _ long within my belly--”

The Warrior of Light snorts. Underwear comes last. She slips it down her legs and adds it to the heap, as naked as the day she was born, but somewhat colder. Idly, she wonders if Vidofnir appreciates the view. Hey, if Hraesvelgr could...

She shivers again, folding her arms against the chill. It’s really  _ quite _ cold. “Alright. Anything else I should know before we do this?”

“Yes,” says Vidofnir. “Hold still.” 

Vidofnir’s neck cranes downward, level with the Warrior. A pink tongue flicks outward from between jagged teeth, sniffing her. Then she opens her jaws wide -- a gust of hot breath washes over the Warrior, sulfurous -- and the next thing the Warrior of Light sees is darkness as those massive and bone-crushing jaws gently and carefully close around her. Vidofnir’s teeth are a thin line of pressure around her calves, keeping as firm a grip as possible without actually  _ biting _ ; the rest of her is squished between the dragon’s tongue and the dragon’s hard palate.

But that feeling is quickly replaced by a dizzy sense of vertigo as she seems to rise and fall at the same time: Vidofnir is lifting her great horned head and tilting it back, and the Warrior is lifted and tilted with it, held securely in the dragon’s fangs. Then Vidofnir’s jaws part minutely -- her teeth release their grip -- and with a contraction of her throat muscles, she swallows.

Gravity and peristalsis carry the Warrior down Vidofnir’s gullet, a visible lump traveling the length of her long neck. She keeps her snout pointed upward until she’s certain the Warrior has passed all the way through; not hard, since she can feel the Warrior moving down it and into her chest. For the Warrior, this translates to several seconds of wet constriction and headfirst descent, slower than gravity. The slick walls of Vidofnir’s throat press against her.

One final squeeze, one sudden expulsion. The pressure vanishes. With a liquid  _ squelch _ , the Warrior of Light slides into the belly of the beast.

The darkness is absolute. Generally, if light is able to find its way inside the innards of a living creature, then the creature in question is not likely to be living for much longer. The Warrior blinks a few times. If it wasn’t for the fact that she can  _ feel _ her eyelids moving, she wouldn’t know the difference. 

But sight isn’t the only useful sense the Warrior has. Beneath her back, she can feel the lining of Vidofnir’s stomach, cradling her like a hammock, soft and warm and thickly yielding. Liquid pools around her legs and navel. Carefully, the Warrior reaches out and explores the boundaries of her space. The belly of the beast is, as it turns out, not very roomy, and also quite damp. Her palms come away slightly slimy. She gropes her way to a sitting position, out of the pool.

Disrobing had been considerably foresighted; the Warrior feels soaked through, and by fluids that don’t often find their way onto other people. Plus, as the Warrior slowly begins to realize, the inside of a dragon is not just dark, but also extraordinarily hot and humid. It’s practically a sauna. Digestive juices notwithstanding, the sweat would’ve ruined her clothes at speed. Still… she sighs with pleasure as warmth overtakes the chill that had settled in her limbs. 

“Warrior?” comes Vidofnir’s voice, a little anxiously. “Art thou well?”

“I’m alright!” shouts the Warrior. She reaches up and pats the low ceiling of the dragon's stomach in what she hopes is a reassuring way. The heavy curve of it yields under her hand like the roof of a tent.

It occurs to her that she can hear a muffled drumming noise from… somewhere behind her?  _ Thump, thump… thump, thump… _

_ Oh _ , she realizes. _ That’s a heartbeat _ . 

The huge engine of Vidofnir’s heart labors behind her, slow, steady, and powerful. The Warrior checks her own. Compared to Vidofnir’s, the Warrior’s heart seems weak and fluttering. One draconian heartbeat spans three beats of hers.

She listens closer. In the dark, she hears the rhythms of Vidofnir’s body with exceptional clarity. That rushing sound could be blood, pulsing through Vidofnir’s veins. That slow, periodic rasp… air moving through her lungs? Further away, something gurgles and growls.

The warmth is almost a physical thing, pressing down on her like a blanket. Sweat beads on her back and her chest. The wet heat, combined with the steady, soothing rhythms of Vidofnir’s body, combined with her own weariness...

_ I’m really inside a dragon _ , she thinks, muzzily. She leans against the wall and smiles. She can see why Shiva went in for this sort of thing. How many other people could claim to have done this?

She closes her eyes to keep anything unfortunate from getting in them. It’s not like she can see anything, anyways.

“When thou wishes to leave, thou only needs must call out,” says Vidofnir. 

The Warrior of Light grunts a response. After you were eaten by a dragon, how long were you supposed to stay inside? After what time could you leave without it being impolite? Her mind spirals into a torpid debate about the ethics of gastrointestinal hospitality.

Vidofnir’s heartbeat continues on. There’s something indefinably comforting about it, nearly hypnotic  _ Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump… _

_... _

“Warrior? Thou hast been silent for some time.”

The Warrior’s eyes twitch behind their lids. Then they snap open. She shoves herself off the wall as the thought  _ I’m inside a dragon’s stomach and I nearly fell asleep _ ricochets around the inside of her skull. The level of the pool around her legs seems to have risen since she closed her eyes.

“Okay,” she calls. “I think I’d like to come out now.”

There’s a moment of silence. And then the walls of Vidofnir’s stomach close in around her, a sudden constriction and  _ movement _ \--

The Warrior of Light flops onto the stone, naked, soaking wet, and steaming. Her brain takes a moment to work out where  _ down _ is, and once that’s sorted out that means the huge shape looming above her is Vidofnir’s head, gazing down at her with some concern.

“Welcome back,” she rumbles, as the Warrior sits up and huddles into a ball. “How art thou feeling?”

“I  _ feel  _ like I should have thought this through a bit more,” says the Warrior, who is quickly discovering what happens when one is nude, drenched, and exposed to cold, windy air. She shudders violently. “Where’s my c-clothing?”

Vidofnir peers down closer. “Ah,” she says. “I shall ask thee later about the experience, then. Thine clothing --”

“N-no, no, it won’t help.” The Warrior shuffles herself against Vidofnir, where it’s warmer, who puts out a paw for her to huddle in. “I’ll still b-b-be wet on the inside, see. Oh, g-gods, I should’ve th-th-thought ahead…”

“Then we return to Anyx Trine before thou catchest ill. I will carry thee, as before.”

“It-t-t’ll be even colder riding you there!” wails the Warrior.

“Ah,” says Vidofnir, another hint of playfulness coloring her voice. “That rather depends on where thou ridest.”

Something in the Warrior’s mind goes  _ click _ .

A few minutes later, Vidofnir kicks off from the rock, her great wings flapping vigorously, her snout angled towards the towers of Anyx Trine. In one huge claw she carries a bedroll, hastily stuffed with clothing. And inside her, nestled in the warm hollow of her stomach, she carries the Warrior of Light.

In the morning, it’ll be back to work. An item will need retrieving, or a nest of monsters will need clearing out, or something equally routine and exhausting. But for now, she rests. This, at least, is one night she won’t forget.


End file.
